Yet this is no effective way to impart a knowledge of norms: direct
moral didacticism, whether of the Victorian or the twentieth century
variety, usually awakens resistance in the recipient, particularly if he
has some natural intellectual power.

Sheer Experience, As Franklin Suggested, Is The Teacher Of Born Fools.
Of course it was not by books alone that the normative understanding of
the framers of the Constitution, for instance, was formed. Their
apprehension of norms was acquired also in family, church, and school,
and in the business of ordinary life. But that portion of their
normative understanding which was got from books did loom large. For we
cannot attain very well to enduring standards if we rely simply on
actual personal experience as a normative mentor. Sheer experience, as
Franklin suggested, is the teacher of born fools.Our lives are too brief and confused for most men to develop
any normative pattern from their private experience; and as Newman
wrote, “Life is for action.” Therefore we turn to the bank and
capital of the ages, the normative knowledge found in revelation,
authority, and historical experience, if we seek guidance in morals,
taste, and politics. Ever since the invention of printing, this
normative understanding has been expressed, increasingly in books, so
that nowadays most people form their opinions, in considerable part,
from the printed page. This may be regrettable sometimes; it may be what
D. H. Lawrence called “chewing the newspapers”; but it is a fact. Deny a fact, and that fact will be your master.

But why use history as the organizing principal – especially if it has
never been part of classical education in the past? I've been thinking
about this question ever since I read the preface to Norms and
Nobility. David Hick’s writes, “Although in my curriculum proposal I
use history as the paradigm for contextual learning, the ethical
question ‘What should one do?’ might provide an even richer context for
acquiring general knowledge.”

Also, a series on Mysteries and the Higher Mystery, by Daniel McInerny, at High Concepts

What good and bad paradoxes possess in common is the shock derived from contradiction: paradox is [apparent] contradiction, explicit or implied” (Kenner, Paradox in Chesterton,
p. 15). That shock may occur in a fragment of Heraclitus or in the
Gospels, but it is perhaps most often encountered, though usually
incognito, in tales of mystery and suspense. In fact, G.K. Chesterton,
the master of paradox, in Heretics defines paradox as mystery (Kenner, Paradox in Chesterton, p. 14).

The Holmesian “Clue.”
The clue is a bogus epiphany. In itself it has no ontological
significance. It doesn’t open to contemplative penetration the
intelligible depths of some object; rather it suggests to the quick
deductive wit discursive attention to the superficies of a dozen other
objects. The clue and the chain of reasoning function, like a jigsaw
puzzle, in two dimensions. The sleuth’s reconstruction of a crime works
at the level of efficient causes only; the epiphany implies an intuitive
grasp of material, formal, and final causes as well (Hugh Kenner, Dublin’s Joyce, p. 176).

the
Chestertonian sleuth is not about “clues” as much as he is a reader of
the human heart. “the only thrill, even of a common thriller, is
concerned somehow with the conscience and the will,” “In Defence of Detective Stories.”

Seen from this angle, the purely relative difference between the very
small and the classically sized takes on an absolute value. Sensation
uses physical interaction, and the relative distinctions of large and
small make essential differences in physical interaction. Hitting a bug
with your car is not the same thing as hitting a tree.

IOW, the observer affects the thing observed. The proper sensibles really do exist in the world AND they are combined with observer’s subjective disposition. Why don't we call this "the observer effect."Funny. That has a familiar ring to it.